


Sleepless

by ashes_and_ashes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Remus x Sirius, sirius x remus, wolfstar, wolfstar angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes/pseuds/ashes_and_ashes
Summary: Some sleepless nights and general confusion.-“Something’s wrong,” Remus whispers. Sirius tightens his grip on Remus’ wrist, his lashes brushing against the back of Remus’ neck. “Remus - “The tolling of a bell fills Remus’ head, the brittle edge of panic, something screaming at him to run, this isn’t right.Memories - falling, fighting, kneeling in an empty grave as the sun rose over the horizon.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 146
Collections: RS Fireside Tales Vol.2





	Sleepless

Remus was half asleep when he felt the blankets being pulled back.

He lets out a groan - the room is freezing, the air like a shock against his skin. He rolls over, facing the opposite wall as he feels the bed sag slightly with the weight of a body next to him, feet tangling with his, an arm slid underneath his head.

“Go away,” he mumbles, eyes already drooping shut. “Too tired.”

He almost sighs in relief at the sound of the laugh - like cold glass on a colder night, the feeling pressed into his palms, against his skin. He could recognize Sirius’ laugh anywhere. 

Remus grumbles, shifting against the pillow. He closes his eyes, already half-asleep, that small knot of tension in his stomach pressing against his rib cage like a hammer. 

“Seriously,” he grumbles. “I’m too tired. I’m going to fall asleep.”

He can feel Sirius’ smile against his skin, fingers buried in his hair, pulling gently at the curls. “Then sleep. You always used to, before.”

_ Before _ . The words strike a chord in Remus. Before, before the war and the fighting, before the blood and the death. His stomach twists at that, the memories, the feeling of skin underneath his hands, of the crunch of bone and the shredding of skin. He swallows, hard, trying to ignore the small spark of panic in his gut. “I know. It’s been hard. Sleeping.”

Sirius makes a small humming noise. Remus stares at the wall, his mind racing. “It’s just…”

“Memories or dreams?”

“Neither? Both?” Remus scrubs his eyes tiredly, watching the bright spots dance across his vision. “I just keep...seeing things.”

_ Sparks flying. A hall of mirrors. Beams ricocheting around the room, a twisted, beautiful medley of light. Screams and laughter, the crack of bone underneath his hand, of gripping so tight it hurt. And Sirius - always Sirius, falling back in a tumbling arc, arms reached out to Remus like he could grab him - _

He swallows again, ignoring the flare of discomfort against his gut. “It’s hard. It’s hard, knowing what’s real. Sometimes I can’t - I can’t remember. Sometimes it scares me.”

Sirius strokes at his hair, pulling slightly at the curls. Each pass of his hand sends shivers down Remus’ spine, the slight scrape of nails against his skin. He arches his back slightly, eyes flickering to the mirror - the lights of the city reflected behind them, the moon so clear in the sky. “I love you,” he says. “So much.”

Sirius lets out a long breath. His hands still in Remus’ hair, leaving behind an echo of the movements he used to make, as intangible as a breath of wind. “Tell me,” he says, voice soft. “What are you dreaming about?” 

“You,” Remus whispers. “It’s always you.”

Sirius hums, low in his throat. 

“It’s the same images. A hallway. The walls are edged with doors and all of them are locked except for one. You’re with me - you and a few others but I can’t...I can’t remember who they are. And we go through the unlocked door…”

He stiffens slightly, the toll of a bell ringing in his head. “And we’re in this room - a huge circular one, the walls this deep, navy blue. We choose a door at random and it’s a room, with shelves full of smoky orbs…”

“Remus,” Sirius says, his voice tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

Remus nods. He closes his eyes, lets the dream play out in his head. “You pick one up. The light makes your face look sunken - it’s funny what you remember. You looked like a statue, something carved out of marble. There are words written on the stone -  _ The Dead Walk Out Of The Sea _ . I’ve heard those words, somewhere.”

There’s something needling the back of his head and Remus can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, that he’s forgotten something, something so, so important. His head feels strangely foggy, Sirius’ hand like an anchor, keeping him tethered to the present, the memories like ocean waves dragging him under.

“I can’t remember. There’s a battle - a huge one, and then someone hits you and I see you falling back - “

_ Sirius, arms out like he was in flight, the shock of pain against his face. The snapping of bone as Remus threw himself forward, legs slamming into the stone, hand stretched out desperately, anything to stop Sirius from falling.  _

“It’s so clear,” Remus whispers. Something flares in his gut, like liquid lead slowly burning him up from the inside. “I keep seeing you die.”

Sirius stiffens behind him, muscles turning to stone. For a moment Remus feels like he’s falling backwards through time, a sky full of stars and an ocean of water, the taste of salt on his lips and blood in his mouth. 

He remembers the prophecy, held in Sirius’ hand, the swirling shapes and the cracks.  _ The Dead Walk Out Of The Sea. _

“Something’s wrong,” Remus whispers. Sirius tightens his grip on Remus’ wrist, his lashes brushing against the back of Remus’ neck. “Remus - “

The tolling of a bell fills Remus’ head, the brittle edge of panic, something screaming at him to  _ run, this isn’t right. _

Memories - falling, fighting, kneeling in an empty grave as the sun rose over the horizon.  _ You never walk alone. _

“Remus?” Sirius asks again but it’s like he’s underwater, like he’s drowning, the waves closing above his head. 

_ Running, screaming, sobbing - his hands wrapped around himself trying not to break apart -  _

“This isn’t right,” Remus breathes. He stares at the two of them in the mirror - he can see himself, lit up by the lights and the moon. He can feel hands on his body, pulling him tighter, tracing familiar paths on his skin.

But he can’t see Sirius. All he can see is a dark shape - pillows or blankets or something different. 

And fear. Fear, bone deep, making him want to scream. His heart pounds, the sound of blood rushing around his ears. 

“You’re not Sirius,” Remus whispers, his mouth numb. “You can’t be him. Sirius is dead.”

When he looks behind him, there’s no one there. 


End file.
